


Hush Little Baby

by Bloody_Vixen



Series: Trapped in the Sewers [5]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Abuse, Breeding, F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Pennywise is his own Warning, Rape, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 11:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15339003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloody_Vixen/pseuds/Bloody_Vixen
Summary: It breeds you. The birth does not free you.'Egg Sac' Sequel.





	Hush Little Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the 'Egg Sac' universe. Can be read as a standalone. I wanted to explore the breeding kink to its conclusion.

You don’t look at your belly anymore.

The dim light feels like a blessing and though walking has become painful and cumbersome you try not to look down.

You know of the swollen flesh, the dark veins and the throbbing heat beneath it. 

The heartbeat that you hear even as you sleep.

You know what it had wanted of you; why you’re here. But you don’t want to remind yourself. 

Madness seems so close, just one step ahead but even after all this time, after what had happened, your wits have yet to catch up. They are no longer sharp, yes, and the fire that once burned through you has dulled but not once did you succumb to the madness you had been so sure would take you away. 

You wanted it so, _so_ much. 

Instead you recall _all_.

The way it would pin you down, its breath, toxic and foul, would cloud your senses. The way that tongue would start gentle, then more eager as it pushes past your lips; the chuckle and moans. 

Yours of pain and it with pleasure.

Every day, even though time has become somewhat meaningless, it would come to you. 

Sometimes the clown, sometimes the woman, but always the spider in the end; when all mercy is gone and it succumbs to its basest instincts. 

“Until it takes, until it takes,” it would whisper, after. Cradling you like you’re the most precious thing in the universe – albeit broken and injured. 

Then one day you wake to it watching you – eyes burning with joy. 

“It took.” It says happily, as long, gloved fingers caresses your belly, just where your womb lay. 

“It took.”

* * *

The reality of it did not hit you until you hear it – a soft, fluttery heartbeat. 

You hear it when you wake, when you eat, when it fucks you and when you sleep. 

_Thump – thump – thump_

You never speak of it but it knows. Once, while inside you, it stops and bends down, impossibly contorted, to place its ear upon your stomach.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word…” It croons, for once soft and sweet. Then its’ hips snaps into you once more.

“Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.”

_Snap._ Again. _Thump – thump._

“And if that mockingbird won’t sing,” it regards you impudently, “Papa’s gonna kill it and buy you a diamond ring,” 

_Snap._ Another. _Thump – thump._

“And if that diamond ring turns to brass,” it continues as another pair of arms emerges from its back. “Papa’s gonna get you a lovely lass,” then another sprouts and pins your arms, tighter. 

_Snap._ Breathe. _SNAP!_

“And if that lovely lass sadly breaks,” it sings, as another pair of arms caresses your belly. “Papa will keep her here until she wakes.” 

_Thump – thump – thump._

* * *

You did not weep when you realized it. Your eyes have dried up from too many cries. 

It still fucks you – but gentler now and always a song for the parasite that nestles in your womb. 

You never see it as a child – but a thing – for no human child has a heartbeat that thrums in your dreams.

* * *

Sometimes you dream of it clawing itself from your womb, as grisly as the fate of the children it ate.

You’d wake to those dreams with it holding you, tightly. 

“No, never. I take care of my toys.” It croons, kissing your cheeks and lips. “And I never destroy my toys; break, yes, but I will fix you.”

You whimper and it imagines that its relief, “You will break but I will _always_ fix you.”

* * *

It finds you holding a pair of knitting needles and breaks your wrists. 

“ _You dare!”_

You were in too much agony to tell it that it you were not trying to abort it – but you wanted those needles to deafen you. You just want to sleep in silence. Can you not have that, at least? Even as you cry, the beat grew louder and you imagine that that’s what your heart would have sounded like.

_Thump – thump – thump._

Then it reels back, softening but not before crushing your tool. Drools splatters all over you as it wrenches your hands towards it. 

“Stupid girl! You don’t get to hurt yourself!” It snarls, before it works its powers upon your aching wrists. 

Like a switch it’s all kindness again as it bends down and pats your belly; “Hush, hush, little one. Be quiet so that {y/n} can sleep.”

It went quiet after. 

But only when it’s around.

Whatever it implicates, you don’t want to know. 

* * *

Once more you wake to it watching you – this time its eyes were soft and blue. 

“It will hurt soon.” It says simply. Despite your fear, you can’t help but smile at that. For what else have you been but hurting? 

Sensing your thoughts, it moves and forms into the woman, then clown, and spider, then clown again as it slides behind you, forcing you to sit as it pulls your back to its chest – caging you between its long legs. 

Then, its’ arms gently wraps itself below your chest though one slips out to caress the belly you try to ignore. A twinge of fear builds again because it’s only kind before the pain. 

As though knowing your fear, it leans and kisses the shell of your ear before whispering, “It comes.” 

Pain explodes from your being. Though weak, your arms surge with strength as you grasp its arms. You scream as your spine burns with agony as every cell in your body cries out.

_Let me out! Let me out!_

“Oh God! Oh my God!” you shriek as your womb clenches and you feel your hips widens itself. In your agony you peer down as see your stomach’s flesh ripple and distend as the horror your bore demands to be let out. 

“Breathe.” It says, not even moving as your legs kick and your back arches from the pain. 

“NO! Oh God! NO! Please – _someone! Make it_ STOP!” you beg as you try to claw it out. 

“NO! Breathe {y/n}! It will end soon!” It shouts but soon, everything is quiet as it parts your straining cunt and something hot and wet slides out of you. 

Thump

Then there’s another scream, high pitched and chittery as long, segmented arms sprouts from behind you and cradles…

Cradles…

A watery sack, no bigger than your palm, glistening with your blood and fluids as it throbs and glows, a long veiny cord trailing from where it came. 

The thing – the parasite –

“Little one,” It claims with parental joy. 

_Thump – thump._

Thud.

* * *

It watches as you slump against it, face drained as you sleep.

So much blood, it thinks, basking in the aroma. You are broken, yes, but not ruined. It will fix you, because it always fix its things, but for now you deserve the rest. You had been very good today. 

A chitter escapes from your newest hatchling. With a graceful wave, it slices the umbilical cord and devours the afterbirth attached to it. 

_Delicious._

It watches in wonder as the flesh sack that contains its offspring begins to harden into a shiny, black shell. 

New. Unique. Its own.

It cradles you both, half healing and half marvelled. 

Then, it sings.

“Hush little baby…”

* * *


End file.
